Sayan was pacing up and down in the conference room. His father was sitting by the narrow end of the long table in the room. If asked, his father would say, “Not bored at all. I’m reading the newspaper. I always carry it along whenever I am going for a meeting with someone.”
If asked, he would even reply, “There’s no waste of my time. Time’s all I have. I have more than plenty. My problem is killing it. Every now and then I’m short of tricks to kill it.”
Sayan’s wife, Abby, was fiddling with a cell phone. WIth an electronic sound she shouted ecstatically, “Blew it.”
Sayan hissed. He was annoyed at all the noise in the room. Sayan’s father laughed out loud. Then he suggested, “Abby, let’s go outside, stretch legs and drink tea.”
Abby stretched her arms over the table. She was sitting by the middle of the table and, thus, by its widest part. Then, she replied, “Nope, old man. You save the tea for my old man.”
Sayan declared, “They seemed lost at the building entrance. I’m going to grab them.”
Abby sank further into her cell. Sayan’s father dived again into the pool of news.
Ten minutes passed. A man entered the room and served water to Abby and her father-in-law.
Ten minutes later Sayan entered the room. An elderly couple followed him. Sayan’s father tried to stand up. But he rolled over the wheels of his chair over the straps of his sandal. He got caught in untangling the strap.
Sayan pulled chairs near Abby. But the couple ignored those chairs and went forward to Sayan’s father and sat on his both sides. The woman, on his left, asked, “I don’t see Ms. Moitro. Is she alright?”
Simultaneously the man asked, “How long have you been waiting, Moitro Moshai?”
Moitro moshai replied, “Lady’s first.”
Then he turned to the woman and replied, “She had a performance today with her band. As far as I know she shares her performance videos with you over WhatsApp… Hadn’t she told you about today’s program?”
The woman answered, “Nope. I am going to have a talk with her. She begged me to come. She said if don’t show up then Abby may be disheartened. She never said a thing about her show. She made me be here so that she can skip.”
Moitro Moshai responded, “I didn’t know that. Let her leave alone. How are your knees? Are they aching? What’s the doctor say?”
The man answered, “She never listens to the Doctors. She’s her own doctor. Let’s leave her. Would you have tea?”
Abby quipped, “Told you to save the tea for the man who ignores her own daughter in excitement of meeting his daughter’s father-in-law.”
Sayan moderated, “It’s not a picnic. We've got a flight to catch. Hence, no one is stepping outside this room until my job is done.”
A woman entered and announced, “Mr. Moitro, here’s the final draft.”
She left on the table a bunch of papers with a hundred rupee stamp paper on top of it. Sayan sat by Abby with the papers. Abby brought out a small folded piece of paper from her purse and unfolded it. Sayan fished out a pencil from a pocket of his backpack. Abby read from the unfolded small paper, “Name, spelling, father’s name, spelling; check yours then I’ll check mine. In the last draft they wrote my surname Moitro while none of my identity documents have “Moitro” as my surname.”
Sayan grumbled, “Nasty and cheap tricks to start unnecessary fights . They had copies of your identity documents. Yet they miswrote your last name. They could’ve called us to check if they’re confused about the last name. Morons!”
Abby made a shushing sound through narrow tunnels she made with her lips. Sayan stopped badgering and paid attention to the job in hand. He said, “Flipping page one.”
Abby said, “Para two, Sentence two, one thousand four hundred square feet.”
Sayan repeated, “Para two, Sentence two, one thousand four hundred square feet.”
Moitro moshai exclaimed, “You have the draft on your phone!”
Abby’s father murmured, “I asked Abby to print the pages…. Phone’s screen is small, if they miss anything between small sized letters..”
The woman scolded, “Stop it. They are adults; a married couple. They know how to deal with things. They have been dealing with things all over the world without your support for more than a decade now. They don’t need your badgering. Besides, you can’t handle mobile technology and you think no one else could. You don’t even know that they can enlarge the letters.”
The man said in response, “Whatever. I would keep badgering to keep her cognizant all the time. I am her father after all.”
Moitro Moshai supported, “Correct, Toru babu.”
The woman murmured, “It would have been better if you two would have gone out for tea.”
Toru Babu criticized, “Why are you so anxious that my suggestions may offend her?”
Moitro moshai seconded, “Same at my home. Ever since my son started working, his mother always finds my opinion at fault.”
By this time, Sayan pushed his chair back and declared, “All checked.”
Abby said, “Go, grab them. We’re waiting for two hours, with all the witnesses ready for the last one hour. Why are they delaying the execution of the registration now?”
Sayan went outside. The man in a T-shirt entered with cups of fuming tea. Toru babu shouted in excitement, “Tea!”
Moitro moshai, Toru babu and the latter’s wife started sipping tea. Abby walked up to their end of table and said, “Next month you’re coming to Bangalore. I’ll book appointments with the Orthopedic Surgeon and I’ll get you checked.”
Sayan entered the room and looked at Abby. Abby walked to him, He said, “There’s a legal issue. The fee of the registration has been doubled. At the time of starting of the project, the street in front of the plot was thirty feet wide. In the past three years, it has been widened to sixty feet. Hence, the rate of the registration for any construction on the plot has hiked.”
Abby commented, “So what? That’s totally legal and we’re paying the revised fee for registration.”
Sayan left the conference room. Abby started strolling along the lengths of it. She was weighing her options. She had arrived at the point where the clerk from the registrar’s office would ask for a bribe.
Whatever her father and Sayan’s father would suggest, she was determined to pay the bribe and fulfill the purpose of her current visit to Kolkata. Otherwise, the money she spent on the flights would keep her biting every now and then.
She was thinking oblivious of her surroundings, “I cannot afford a delay. I must arrive in Bangalore tonight and must have a good night’s sleep. I’m starting a new job tomorrow. It’s not a new company, but in a new role with a pay hike and more responsibilities. None in my old team wanted me to have this. There would be many in the new team to bite my back, naturally. I must not miss the flight this evening.”
Sayan appeared and hummed, “They’re saying that the registration cost can be halved, to the cost if the road would have been thirty feet wide, if we pay five thousand rupees to the clerk from the registrar’s office. Cash only.”
Abby was ready more than ever, “Then find an ATM. Withdraw five thousand rupees or thirty-five thousand rupees, as needed. Let’s get over this. Let’s finish here ASAP.”
Sayan went back to them. Abby was so deep in her thoughts that she did not notice when she left the conference room and stepped into the lounge. She returned to her senses by abuses, “Shalah, Son of a Bamoon.”
She noticed the speaker is a dark man in white shirts and gray pants with jade black hair. Under hairline, his skin was lined up to give his age around the funny side of the fifties. Also the lines on his forehead were mocking the fake black on his hair. His slim figure was carrying his shirt almost like a hanger. Without the shirt, he could have been mistaken for a wooden plank. All his fingers were scintillating with gems of different colors. A turquoise, a topaz, a ruby, a moonstone, a pair of garnets, both white and red corals and a ring of iron were the occupants of his fingers leaving the thumbs. A thick garland of knots on a red thread with dark twigs fastened to it was slipping from his right biceps to the elbow.
He was talking over his cell phone. The phone was not on loud speaker mode, yet the person on the other side was audible. The man kept a gap between the speaker and his ear while holding the phone.
Abby heard, “Is the man in the party a dwarf? You should not be harsh to them. These days they can slap you with a misdemeanor lawsuit.”
The man replied, “Are you a Bengali? I meant Brahmin. In my neighborhood the Brahmin lady used to drive us away like animals if we, the lower caste boys, ever tried to tear a fruit or a flower from her garden. She used to ask us not to touch her flowers and fruits as she dedicated those to her God. She claimed our touches would make the fruits and flowers unholy. Since her, I can’t stand a Bamoon.”
Abby was drawn to the conversation. The voice on the other side chattered, “Ow! That’s why you’re vying for five thousand rupees instead of standard three thousand. It’s your revenge on the oppressive upper caste, I see. It’s the revenge that made you enroll as scheduled caste, though you’re not the real Namahshudra but a Vaisya!”
The man was very annoyed, “What do you mean? There are Brahmins and Kayasths. Rest of us, scheduled or not, are exploited by them. Since when have we become puritans?”
The voice on the other side quipped, “I’m not. But you did not let your son marry his Harijan girlfriend. You still roar, ‘not in my lifetime, not in my house’. That’s why I never asked you to set up my youngest brother with your daughter.”
The man fumbled, “I did not know that you would bring my personal things in the matters of the office.”
Then he started with rejuvenated enthusiasm, “All those years Bamoons danced above our heads. Now, Independent India has made us powerful. Why don’t we make use of it and put the Bamoon in his new place! And don’t pretend that you’re the righteous here. You, and your Mochi self, too, enjoy your share from the monthly collection…”
The voice on the other side was curt, “So does Mookherjee. What’s the advantage here for you Saha Babu if we extract an extra two thousand from a Brahmin and pass it onto another?”
Saha Babu tried to strike a balance, “Look we’d give the standard three thousand to the collection of the department. The remaining two thousand we would divide equally between you and me.”
Mochi or the other voice seemed in agreement, “Sounds like a deal.”
Then the voice reflected some eagerness, “Now give me the name of your Bamoon, I have to close at least two more deals today before the closing of the portal by four o’clock.”
Saha spat his gutkha juice into the planter of Erica palm kept by the corner of the lounge. Then he fished out a chit of paper from a hidden chest pocket of his shirt. Then he uttered, “Moitro.”
Abby found her feet were hooked into the lounge. She was thrilled that her instincts were correct about the bribe monger clerk of the registration office. But she never thought that Sayan’s caste would be a factor that may increase the bribe amount.
The shock in the voice of the other side was hilarious, “You meant the document of Sayan Moitro?”
Saha expressed his affirmation, “Yap.”
The voice shouted, “It’s a joint property. With a Muslim!”
Saha seemed shaken, “What?”
He changed his laid back posture into an upright one.
The voice repeated, “Yes. Aren't you at the office of Tortoise Properties?”
Saha affirmed, “Yes, I am.”
The voice added, “They are registering the flat in Skylark Apartments at Sulanguri.”
Saha agreed, “Correct.”
The voice confirmed, “The party is not only Sayan Moitro son of Sadhan Moitro but also some Nenmini Tariq Aabidah daughter of Nenmini Abdur Tariq.”
Saha seemed perplexed, “How come? The woman is wearing a bindi. Even her mother is wearing one, too. None of them are in burqas!”
The voice from the otherside threw his two cents in a know-it-all tone, “That’s it. Taqiah. The perfectly religious deception. The Muslims always do that.”
Saha tried to get back to his nonchalance, “I have heard that the Muslims came by their own car. I was thinking of a Bamoon with rich in-laws. Hence, I was thinking of five thousand for our job.”
The voice rectified, “Add two more thousand rupees. Fine for deception and being rich. These extra two, too, for us only; not a paisa of these would be shared. Neither with Mofizool, nor with Mookherjee.”
Saha agreed, “Needless to say. This Bamoon and the Muslim must pay more than anyone else. They have done an obnoxious thing.”
The voice repeated, “Obnoxious and heinous. They married outside their own religions!”
Abby could not watch the drama anymore. Sayan was calling. She left the lounge and entered the conference room to respond to the call. But the call was disconnected by then. She rang back.
Sayan was anxious, “Hey, No luck with the ATMs. I have walked upto College Moar. Here the ATMs are out of cash. We can’t miss the flight. Let’s postpone the registration.”
Abby was perplexed. The idea of traveling this far for nothing irritated her. She felt helpless. Also, she realized that next time the bribe could be higher.
If they would somehow figure that Abby’s not Bengali but Keralite then they would hate her more. Her fluent Bangla would then be considered as deception, too. Nobody would pay due respect to the agility of her Malayalam mincing tongue. None would appreciate her parent’s endeavor to assimilate in the Tollygunge crowd and live like Bengali and prepare fish curry with fried pieces of fish. All her life she paid more attention to Durga Puja than Onam. But that was probably her existential strategy and not her broadmindedness. At least this plank like man and the voice across his cell phone could interpret things like this.
Sayan was expecting a response from her. He badgered, “Hello, are you there?”
Abby reluctantly uttered, “Come back. Got to catch the flight.”
Sayan entered the conference room with a battalion behind him. Among them was Saha. A go-to man, evident from his over enthusiasm in the event, laid out the fingerprint scanner, camera and all other devices and powered them up.
A woman in the uniform of the employees of Tortoise Properties approached Abby with a print out and explained, “Ma’am we’re extremely sorry. Systems at Mr. Saha’s office aren't allowing his counterpart to edit information about the road in front of the apartment and also their system is not allowing to edit your final payment amount. You’ve to pay the entire registration fee as appeared on their computer.”
Abby just passively acknowledged, with apprehension of what was about to come next, “Ok.”
The woman showed her the figures on the print out, generated from an email with domain names of the State Government. Abby saw a link on the print out. Then she noticed that she received an email from the same domain name.
She found the invoice and payment link in that email. The link led her to pay into the current account of the State Government. She even got an electronic money receipt.
She expected to receive the electronic copy of the deeds just after the fingerprint scanning and photo capture was completed. But the go-to man informed Sayan and her , “Once the registrar’s office receives your fingerprint and your photo from us, they’ll finalize your deeds. Both the original and a certified copy would be with your financier. The financier would let you know when and where you can collect the certified copy.”
Abby asked, “Won’t there be any notification from the Government registry office?”
The go-to man answered, “We’ll try to have one. Maybe you’ll get one when you buy your next flat, three to five years later.”
Then he grinned wickedly.
Sayan was explaining things to Toru Babu and Moitro Moshai as they finished signing for the witnesses. Abby’s mother was asking Saha about his astrologer.
Abby asked the go-to man, “How much cash would Saha take?”
The go-to man grinned again. This time triumphantly, “None. His trick was showing properties downsized and reducing the amount of the revenue payable to the Government. We don’t ask for property size reduction as in multi storeyed apartments all types of apartments are defined by their respective sizes, we cannot alter one in a particular floor for a particular client. Sometimes clients insist on downsizing the property on paper. Then, Saha earns balck money. Since you haven’t asked for downsizing…”
Abby was surprised, “Even in 2019, years after demonitization, people are seeking bribes and people are greasing those palms.”
Sayan called, “Abby, it’s time. Say bye to Kaku, Kakima.”
Toru Babu said, “We’ll drop Moitro Moshai on our way back home. Wish you a safe journey.”
Abby’s mother said, “Call me and Ms. Moitro as you reach your flat. Whatever may be the time.”
Moitro Moshai badgered, “Book a cab. Hurry.”
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